Et Mundus Eos
by Voltalia the Majestic One
Summary: Unofficial sequel to "Extended Stay" by Prepare-for-the-crazy. The Warden, the Mistress and their son find themselves ruling the world alongside a group of punky youths and other such diverse people. Will they get through the challenge together? Find out in this story. Rating may change later on. Wardess and OC x OC
1. New Seeds

**Author's Note: I'm so hyped for this story to get going. First off, I'd like to thank Prepare-for-the-crazy for giving me permission to write this sequel to ****_Extended Stay_**** and for being such a great buddy. (She is currently writing a ****_Kim Possible _****fanfic, so please read that one too.) I'd also like to thank Jubalii and anyone else who may be reading this for sacrificing their time in their busy lives by doing so. Please review, favorite, follow and most importantly enjoy! (By the way, please be mature when you're reviewing this fanfic. Flames and trolling will promptly be ignored.)**

**-Voltalia**

**Disclaimer:**

_**Superjail! **_**(c) Augenblick Studios, Titmouse Inc., [adult swim] and Cartoon Network**

**The Warden kids and William Queen (c) Prepare-for-the-crazy**

**Other OCs (c) me**

As a giant silver-white pod landed on the outskirts of what was formerly known as Washington D.C., a young mohawked bleach-blonde couldn't help but gawk at its simplistic yet advanced beauty. She didn't know how exactly to describe it. Breathtaking? Chilling? Uncanny? No. There wasn't a word that truly fitted it.

"H-hello?" she asked _sotto voce_. "Is there anyone in there?"

She trudged toward the pod but stopped when its door opened up. Out emerged three people in military uniforms: a man who appeared to be middle-aged with salt-and-pepper hair, his strikingly beautiful raven-haired wife, and their equally beautiful teenage son, who was fifteen going on sixteen. That last person stumbled out from behind his parents and proceeded to tumble off the ramp and into the grass.

"Aw, poor baby." the older woman said as she helped her son up on his feet. He then puked a bit.

"Yo. Is he okay?" the mohawked lady asked a bit out of concern.

"Oh, he'll be fine." the middle-aged man replied with a hand-wave. "We just now found out he gets motion sickness."

"Who are you guys?" the mohawked lady asked again. "And what's with those uniforms?"

"Huh? Oh, we're the dictators of the world and we've come to settle in the White House." the older man answered. "I'm the Warden and you're a punk..."

"Well, duh." the mohawked girl snarked while rolling her eyes.

"...and this is the Mistress." Warden continued, pointing to the black-haired woman. "My Mistress."

"So then this handsome guy is your son?" the bleach-blonde asked once more, pointing to the boy who just threw up.

Warden nodded. "Yep. His name is Edward or Eddie for short."

"Okay, then. But why the White House of all the places in the world? I guess Buckingham Palace was out of the question?"

"Because, Miss..."

"Genie."

"Because, Miss Genie, the White House is where the power of the most powerful nation in the world comes from. You know that, right?"

"Dude, I know. I learned that back in school. You don't need to tell me again. How old are you anyway?"

"Excuse me?"

"I asked how old you were. Jeez."

"Well, if you must know, I am one hundred thirty seven."

"One hundred thirty seven? You're shitting me, dude."

"I have photos of me as a three-and-a-half-year-old boy from 1900." Warden then produced a photograph of himself with one of the hired help who used to work for his father.

Seeing the proof in front of her instantly shut Genie up. She then turned away and called out, "It's okay, guys! He's legit! They all are!"

In a flash, more youngsters arrived to gaze at the three newcomers and their fancy pod. There were about twelve youths besides Genie in total: a ginger-haired skinhead named Rocko, Maksim the coal black-haired masked Russian lad, a tanned skin golden-blonde named Iggy, a black guy with dreadlocks named Dante, an Afro-Japanese girl named Velvet, two identical wavy-haired brunette Puerto Rican girls who called themselves Aurelia and Flavia, Jillian the pompadoured ginger girl, another black dude named Absalom who bore resemblance to the African equivalent of Hercules, a biracial (mostly white and part black) lad named Seth, a white-blonde New Zealander lassie named Sally, and a black Scottish woman named Bette. All of these youths tried to catch a gaze at these three arrivals, with Rocko and Iggy and Bette the only ones successful to do so.

"Ah, so dey are leh-git, huh?" Iggy asked as she studied her subjects.

"Yeah." Genie replied. "What do you think?"

"Dey're impressive in de eyes, but dey don't look like da dictators we was hearing about." Iggy bluntly stated.

"Well, sorry to get your hopes up so high." Mistress said. "But we really need to get going."

"So where y'all heading to anyway?" Iggy asked again.

"The White House." Mistress simply replied.

"Uh-uh." Iggy shook he head violently. "Our leader lives dere. Ya can't just waltz on in and kick out our great Delilah!"

"I never saw anything about a 'Delilah' living in Washington D.C., let alone the White House." Warden cut in, rather confused.

"Gee, for being dictators of the world, you really suck at your jobs." Maksim snarked.

"Just take us to the White House, please." Mistress said.

"C'mon, guys." Genie pleaded a bit. "We really need to get them there. The sun looks like it's gonna go down anyway."

"Aw, fine." Iggy gave in. "C'mon, you lucky bastards. Off we go!"


	2. Everything in its Right Place

**Author's Note: I finally got the second chapter up. Thank God, because I've got nine weeks testing next week. And I've got straight A's so far, so I shouldn't have to worry about lagging behind in my classes. And fall break is coming, so I might work on more chapters during that time. Until then, enjoy this!**

**-Voltalia**

The thirteen youngsters led the world dictators plus their son to the White House about several miles from the pod. As soon as they reached the entrance, they heard a woman shout from behind the doors, "Who goes there?"

"It's us, Miss Delilah, ma'am." Seth the biracial young man answered timidly.

"Ah, really?" Delilah questioned him. A spinel blue eye, saturated with dark eyeshadow and heavy mascara, peeked through the small gap between the entrance doors. "And just who are these Kaiser wannabes?"

"They're the world dictators we've been informing you about." Genie replied for Seth. "They've come to move into the White House..."

"W-what?" Delilah asked in shock. "They can't do that, can they?"

"They're world dictators, Miss Delilah." Rocko answered. "They can pretty much do as they please. And I'd hate for us all to be arrested and sentenced to a lifetime of torture. Or worse... death."

"Fine." the youths' leader sighed loudly. "Let them in. I'm sure it wouldn't hurt badly for us all."

Delilah opened the doors and upon doing so, revealed herself. The spinel blue eyes were accompanied by a small nose fit for a porcelain doll and plump, pouty dark navy blue lips. Her hair was let down all the way past her shoulders, save for some portions that were either braided and a huge bun resembling a cinnamon roll near the top of her head. The hair was smoky black while highlighted an indigo hue and looked to be in good condition.

Anyway, she let the thirteen punk kids and the three uniformed newcomers into the White House or, as Delilah liked to call it, the "Haus of Rok 'n Roll."

"Which one of you found them first?" was the first thing Delilah asked once everyone was inside.

Genie raised her hand.

"Thank you, Genie." Delilah said proudly. "Where would I be without my little girl?"

"Wait, she's your daughter?" Mistress asked, rather confused. "But both of you look so young."

"Yes. I had her young. Very young as a matter of fact." Delilah responded while she nodded her head. "I think I was fourteen or fifteen when I had her."

Warden and Mistress looked at each other while gaping at what they just heard.

"Don't be so shocked, Warden." Genie said. "After all, you look very young yourself for someone who's one hundred and thirty seven years old."

"I'm flattered." he said. "I mean, I appreciate you not calling me an 'old fart,' but that still won't change the fact that I'm going to die."

"Y-you're going to die?" Seth asked suddenly. "Jesus, sir. We're sorry about to hear that from you."

"Oh, don't worry." Warden assured Seth. "I'm not going to die for a while. Sure, my time will come eventually, but Mistress and I are going to focus on ruling the world for now."

"Good." Delilah laughed lightly. "By the way, there's someone who wants to see you."

"Who is it?" Eddie asked curiously.

"Seth's mother, my featous sir." Delilah flitatiously answered him. "Zora."

"Zora?" Mistress's eyes widened. "Mrs. Zora Queen?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention." Delilah cut in. "She doesn't want people to call her Mrs. Queen anymore. She'd rather you call her Mrs. Austin, after her first husband."

"Ah." Mistress calmly responded. "I had forgotten she was married to William once. Has it really been years since she testified against him in court?"

"You're damn right it has." someone said.

Delilah and her guests turned around to see who it was. A woman with cafe au lait skin had wheeled herself into the room just now. She had curled seal brown hair streaked with platinum gray, wrinkled sepia eyes, thick lips that looked as though they had unnaturally stretched over the years, a squarish jaw, slightly pronounced cheekbones, a pear-shaped figure, legs with most of the muscle having atrophied over the last several years and would've stood over 5'5" or 5'6".

"Zora!" Delilah shouted suddenly, hands clasped together. "You came at the right moment. The world dictators just came in and said they were moving in here."

"So they are..." Zora said, as if deep in thought. "I recognize the Mistress, but not her husband. Who are you, sir?"

"I'm the Warden of Superjail, fair lady." he replied. "I believe you are William's ex-wife?"

"Oh!" Zora remembered. "You're that Warden. Sorry. I expected a totally different person. I won't say who I thought you were, though." She eyed the adolescent boy. "And who is this handsome young sir?"

"This is our son Edward, or as we like to call him Eddie." Warden said.

"Hello, Eddie boy." Zora greeted the fifteen-going-on-sixteen-year-old boy. "It is very nice to meet you."

"And it's nice to meet you, too, you courteous ni-" Eddie was about to say.

"Edward." Mistress warned him as she was about to pull out her riding crop.

"I mean, you courteous black woman." the boy instantly corrected himself. Zora smiled at his quickness.

"I admire the way you discipline your son, ma'am." Zora told Mistress. "Is he your only child?"

"Well, no." Mistress answered. "We had two other children before him: twins."

"Where are they?" the Negress asked again.

"They took over Superjail and Ultraprison for us." Warden was quick to reply. "We practically lended them the jails."

"Ah." This time, it was Delilah who spoke. "I was wondering what was going to happen to your precious jails."

"So was I." Genie spoke up.

"Speaking of Superjail and Ultraprison, are there anymore of you coming here?" Zora asked once again.

"I hope so." Warden replied. "My old gang should be finishing up training with their replacements. Ditto for Mistress's team."

"Well, at least we're certain they're with you." Delilah said. "Suddenly, I don't feel like talking anymore. And look! Did anyone notice it turned dark a moment ago?"

At least most of the people in the room appeared shocked by how much time had passed by.

"G'night, gentlemen." the youths' leader said. "We should be getting to bed about now."

"Bed?" Eddie asked. "It's only seven thirty."

"Trust me, kid. There's a lot of work to be done around here, so sleeping early is imperative." Delilah said. "Besides, you never know when the rebels might escape from their internment camps."

* * *

In the master bedroom, there slept the world dictators and their son. (Mistress had always thought it a good idea that a child should sleep with his parents just to make sure they were safe.) Not much seemed to go through their minds while they dozed. It was their first night in the White House anyway, so of course there would need to be adjustments. Mistress was caught off-guard by a sudden knock at the door.

"Ugh...come in..." Mistress muttered.

Zora wheeled herself into the room and looked a bit desperate.

"Sorry for the disturbance, but I don't feel like sleeping on the couch tonight and I'd hate to lie on the floor with the others, packed like sardines." the black paraplegic woman apologized. "Could I perhaps sleep with you? I've got a headache."

"Sure...why not..." Mistress groggily said.

Zora lifted herself out of her wheelchair and flopped onto the small vacant side of the bed. She shut her eyes and began snoring.


	3. Come As You Are

**Author's Note: Sorry I took so long. School has been awfully demanding, especially since I've got a lot of stuff to deal with for my senior year, like designing my own class ring. Yeah, you know what? You may need to look forward to some delays here and there. Regardless, please enjoy.**

**-Voltalia**

The next day, Zora was the first to awaken when she heard rumbling coming from the distance.

"The hell?" was the first thing to come out of her mouth.

She got onto her wheelchair and moved toward the master bedroom window. She could hardly believe what she was seeing: two circular rose-colored pods, another pod shaped like a cylinder and colored dull teal, and another pod resembling a rough polygonic sphere colored tarnished silver landing outside. She then proceeded to wheel herself away and around the bed and made her way toward the door. As soon as she exited the bedroom and into Delilah's office, she abruptly stopped to pick up for sounds of clicking high heels and some footsteps.

"Are you sure Mistress said we were supposed to come here?" Zora heard another woman ask. She only knew it was one of the new visitors, because she didn't recognize that voice.

Soon, a little brown-haired man with skunk stripes, a large forehead, and an enlongated mustache that went beyond his face walked into the room. It took a minute before a small red-headed woman and a slightly taller brunette girl followed him inside.

"And just who are you to block my path?" Zora heard a man shout. She looked around for a bit in confusion before looking down to meet the brown-haired man's face.

"Oh, h-hello." Zora spoke sheepishly. "You caught me off-guard. I'm Zora Austin. My son is one of the young'uns living with the punk youth leader Delilah." Jared suddenly noticed that the woman towering over him was in a wheelchair.

"Good God, woman. What happened to you?" Jared asked out of sympathetic curiosity.

"My ex-husband stabbed me so hard in the back that he severed my spinal cord." she answered.

"Yes, we know about your ex-husband, Mrs. Austin." Cherice said. "William Queen, I'm guessing?"

"Yes. I was so upset by his cheating heart that I felt like I couldn't go on anymore." Zora replied once more. "Thank God the Mistress had enough common sense to leave him while she did. Speaking of which, you two were looking for her, right?"

Cherice nodded yes.

"Well, I reckon she's still asleep." Zora said. "C'mon. Why don't I personally show you around?" She then noticed the brunette girl behind the two little people. "Wait a minute. Who's this little girl?"

"My name's...Victory...or Vicki." the brunette girl stammered. "And I'm not...a little girl. I'm...seventeen."

"I'd've never guessed." Zora replied. "You look about as young as my grandbabies. Are these two hobbits your parents?"

"Yes'm."

"You look very much like your mother, Vicki. You know that? Anyway, I better show you all around. Let's go."

* * *

"So do you have any idea how the war all started?" Vicki asked while Zora was giving her and her parents the VIP tour.

"Where have your parents been keeping you all your life?" Zora asked in bewilderment. "Under a rock?"

"Well..." Vicki was trying to think of an answer.

"Let me tell you a story." Zora cut in. "It was about nineteen or eighteen years ago when things started falling apart. The U.S. government had shut down again, this time over a bill for cloning people back to life. The Republicans (mostly the Tea Party) were extremely adamant on their stance against cloning. They felt that the idea of replicating someone by implanting their DNA in an empty ovum and using women to incubate these clones was against the rules of nature and thus the rules of life, because then Death would be seen as a convenient excuse to collect more DNA as others pleased and farm unnecessary copies of the dead. Anyway, when the Democrats voted in favor of the cloning bill, the Republicans were very bitter and they debated with their opponents for days on end over the morality of cloning humans."

"So the government had to be shut down because it was just that controversial?"

"Mm-hmm. Some of the Republicans in the Tea Party even plotted to have all the Democrats in office assassinated so they could take back the reins they had once held; that's how much they were against cloning and how much they hated the Democrats. However, they had been caught purely by chance."

"How?"

"The First Lady had overheard their plans to plant a pipe bomb in her husband's office and pin on some adolescents. Once the plans reached the president, the conspirators were arrested and put on trial in the Supreme Court for violating the Smith Act of 1940. I swear to God, there were people up and down declaring this whole fiasco to be the next Watergate."

"But what about the adolescents?"

"They were pissed that a group of people in the White House had the audacity to try to use them as scapegoats for a political conspiracy and honestly, who could blame them? So then, certain teenagers started to gather outside the president's gates and demand that all the Republicans be banned from ever taking office again."

For a moment, Zora paused her story and tried gathering her thoughts.

"...I'm sorry. G-go on." Vicki prompted forward.

"Well, anyway, there were like, I think, a hundred teenagers at first that wanted the Republicans gone." Zora continued. "Then more and more came, and in the blink of an eye, there were ten thousand teens fighting that cause. They even dragged their parents along. Soon, there was a copious amount of riots and the brazenness on both sides were reinforced. These riots left most of the government members and the President and First Lady dead, but there hadn't been any satisfaction found in those deaths at all. So the teens decided that now all the senators and governers and mayors and whatnot had to die."

Vicki's eyes were widened with awe, shock and fear. My God, that story seemed too far-fetched to be real but it was.

"How do you even know all this?" Vicki asked once more.

"I watched all the news coverage on the shit before the blackout that ensued soon after." Zora explained.

"It's great that you've given a first-hand account on what went down, Mrs. Austin, but did you really need to tell her that teenagers were involved?" Cherice asked nervously.

"She has every right to know about that war, Cherice." Zora said.

"But..."

* * *

"Out of my way, bimbos!" was the first thing Alice had said to the youths when she came into the White House.

She had been dealing with so much these days. First off, she had just finished training her student Kendra in the art of shepherding the inmates at Superjail. Secondly, her brother Kirby and mother Norah were going to be put under her care in a few weeks, for Kirby was schizophrenic and Norah couldn't be trusted alone due to the ailments of her old age. And lastly, she had just recently completed her transition to becoming female. It would take a while to adjust to the widened hips and such. She suddenly came across the youths Iggy and Maksim.

"Da hell is you?" Iggy asked out of contempt. "Some kinda broad or somethin'?"

"Sheesh, Iggy." Maksim snarked in a hushed tone. "Way to break the ice."

"Hey." Maksim heard the ruby-haired Amazon speak. "You look familiar. Did we meet somewhere?"

"I..."

"Oh, wait. I think I'd remember you back with me at Superjail. Never mind. I must be thinking of someone else."

"I-it's fine. Just don't freak out. Can I show you around?"

"I guess so."


	4. Reach For The Dead

**Author's Note: Sorry for not posting this chapter earlier. Life sidetracked me by a few yards and I've been struggling to restore everything back into order ever since. (It's mainly school, though, that's to blame.) But no matter. I shall be back with another chapter. I just don't know when.**

**By the by, for those of you wondering about the Somali President, Chancellor, and Emissary's names, they follow a certain traditional naming system that goes like this: first name, middle name (father's name), and last name (grandfather's name). Also, Thanksgiving break is coming up soon, so maybe I might start chapter 5 then. But I'll leave this here for now. _Vale_.**

**-Voltalia**

"I'd like to tell you all something." Delilah was saying to the youths and world dictators.

"What is it?" Absalom the black Hercules asked as he leaned forward.

"To celebrate our world dictators' arrival, we shall throw an introductory gala!" Delilah announced. "I want to invite the State Leaders and Chancellors over so they can see for themselves. So would someone please send out all the invites?"

Genie volunteered to send the invites.

"Of course." Delilah smiled. "I shouldn't be surprised. You are always eager to please me."

"I know, right?" Seth perked up. "But what about the Emissaries? Aren't you going to invite them, too?"

"They're coming with the Leaders, remember?"

"But we're going to do something to make them feel special, right? I mean our fellow housemates have them under their control, so it only seems fair."

"Yes we are, Seth. Yes we are."

* * *

**Two weeks later...**

The introductory gala was being held tonight in the ballroom of the White House. The theme for this occassion was masquerade, which Warden had suggested to begin with. At four thirty, the Japanese

Empress and her Chancellor were the first to arrive and the fifteen-going-on-sixteen-year-old boy Eddie, chaperoned by his parents, was there to greet them.

The humble, petite and stick-thin Empress, Matsumoto Sakura, had suited up in a fiery orange kimono dress accompanied by a matching mask and some Kabuki makeup. Her coal black hair was done up in a topknot garnished with hibuscus flowers and streaked with the hues and shades of a phoenix bird. Her narrow dark brown eyes stood out from the hot pink eyeshadow and explosive mascara. The lips were cherry red and glossed over with perfection.

Her young Chancellor, Yokoi Suki, was no different. Suki was about the size of a small cement podium when compared to the future world dictator Eddie, who towered above her by merely a few inches. Her eyes were tiny slits with a chocolate iris edged with large charcoal black eyelashes puffing out. Her lips were grotesquely plump like those of a Bratz doll, naturally colored salmon but partly colored garnet pink for the masquerade, and gave the owner a pretense of being a child. (She may as well have been a child, given that she was one of the youngest Chancellors in the world at age nineteen.) Her body seemed to be composed of mostly skin and bones with some muscle here and there. The skin itself was a lighter shade of parchment yellow and looked to be effacing, given how visible the veins beneath it were. Lastly, her hair was black ink, about as straight as beam of light, that falls to her shoulder blades, weightless as a feather. She blankly stared at the ebony-haired teen in the military uniform, and it unsettled him. She clutched a small bottle of medication in her hands, but no one noticed anything suspicious. She wore herself a small blue dress that looked to have come from eighteenth-century England and a matching mask that was adorned with gems that were various shades and hues.

"H-hello." Eddie saluted nervously. "I'm Edward, but I usually go by Eddie for short." He extended his hand.

"Name's Suki." the Japanese chancellor simply introduced herself as she shook his hand. "I hear you are a very handsome lad. May I ask if it's true?"

"Yes, it is." Warden happily replied.

"Excuse me, sir, but I was expecting the boy to answer." Suki pointed out.

"Sorry."

"I take it you're his daddy?"

"Yes. Where's your Emissary?"

"In hospital for pinkeye."

Warden was about to express an apology when the Somali President, Chancellor, and Emissary came through.

The Somali President, Barwaaqo Amiin Axmadeey, was an older woman with wrinkled skin much darker than Dante's, Absalom's, Velvet's, Seth's, Zora's, or even Bette's for that matter. Her hair was tightly curled and had the color of dirty ivory. She was taller than Sakura and Suki, but not by a whole lot. Her peacock dress covered her right down to the arms and neck; it matched her headcloth which could not even contain the packed curls and the mask she had brought. Her lips were the color of old dusty black leather and not as plump as they had been in the olden days. Her eyes were the shape of cashews and were clouded by cataracts, leaving her practically blind and in need of assistance from her Chancellor.

The Chancellor's name was Bilqiis Cibaado Bootaan Cali. (Most people would've thought it unusual for her to have two first names, but she felt they emphasized how important she was, both as a Chancellor and as a person.) She towered over the Somalian President with orange high heels. The rest of her outfit- a sleeveless low-neckline dress, gloves, mask and headcloth - was a menagerie of orange shades and hues. Her hair was a silky golden blonde (dyed of course) and her skin was the color of the protective coat of vanilla beans. Her eyes had were the size of ping-pong balls and had an iris colored muddy brown with a splash of olive green. Her lips were ripe with the juiciness of peaches and colored dark chocolate brown.

Lastly, there was the Emissary. The name for this young lass (thirteen years old, as a matter of fact) was Deeqo Cawaale Geedi. She was the smallest of the Somalian arrivals, even shorter than Somali President Axmadeey herself. Her skin wasn't as dark as Barwaaqo's or Bilqiis's, but nonetheless dark enough to be a distinct indicator of her ethnicity. Her hair was a wavy color mixture of mud and dark chocolate that touched her shoulders. Her eyes were the darkest of all the browns there were, and her cocoa lips were fattening up. She had the same sort of headcloth, mask and dress as Barwaaqo's, except they were colored plum.

"Good evening, you marvellous ladies." Delilah greeted them with such pleasure. "How are you?"

"We are just off the charts, Miss Delilah!" Bilqiis exclaimed. "Just last week, Deeqo invented a large boat for flying places! Would you believe she made it because she wanted to see her father in hospital in France?"

"That's...neat."

"Mm-hmm."

"Would you mind introducing yourselves to our dictators, Miss Cali?"

"Surely." Bilqiis tried her hardest not to express disgust at the white woman standing before her. She spotted the white couple and their son in military uniforms behind the American Leader Delilah. "These are our dictators, Miss Delilah?"

"Yes'm." Delilah responded with confidence. "Go on."

Bilqiis feigned delight and pleasure with her face as she went over to the dictators. They had been busy talking with Empress Matsumoto when they spotted Bilqiis coming their way.

"And who are you?" Warden asked in a sly manner.

"If you want my official name, it is Bilqiis Cibaado Bootaan Cali. But 'Chancellor' or just 'Bilqiis' works as well." the Somali Chancellor introduced herself in a way she considered humble. "You two must be the Warden and the Mistress. You will do everything in your power to subdue us, Your Excellencies?"

"We will."

"Just as I dreamed?"

"Well, uh..."

"Doesn't matter. I hope you and your sexy wife will be able to take care of over seven billion people on the planet."

Mistress blushed at being called "sexy" by a Chancellor, much less a lady Chancellor. (This was how she guessed that Bilqiis might've been a lesbian.)

"Oh, well, uh, thank you." Mistress was fishing for a phrase of gratitude.

Barwaaqo was watching Bilqiis's face for a smile, but it wasn't a genuine one as she had expected. It was small but looked more like a minor grimace than anything else. However, Barwaaqo smiled back.

* * *

The last Leader, Chancellor, and Emissary to arrive to the gala came from France.

The French President, Clark DuBois, was a bit built in the pectoral and abdominal muscles. He looked to be around the same age as Delilah, yet he had wisps of silvery hair. His cheekbones were pronounced, his brown eyes intense, his platinum blond hair shining, his chin petite and oval, his skin china white, and his lips scarred from past scuffles and battles. His suit was a menagerie of shades of green with a matching mask and gloves.

The French Chancellor, Dorian Valjean, was imperially slim. He looked to be slightly older than Mistress and yet his hair hadn't yet grayed. His cheekbones were bit too small to be noticed, but his striking blue topaz eyes, short ink black hair, boyish looks, slightly tanned skin and almost feminine lips were flamboyant. He had on his suit which was gray mixed with crimson and peacock blue, and a violet mask.

The French Emissary, Eponine Otis, was the epitome of supermodel-perfection among her fellow President and Chancellor. She was slightly taller than the both of them and her slenderness was stressed by how much more skin and bones there were to her than muscle. She had the same china white skin as President DuBois's and the same sort of short black hair as Chancellor Valjean's, but her eyes were hazel and her lips were those of a rainbow trout's. She had on a long rococo dress, no doubtedly iridescent, with a matching mask and gloves.

"Oh my!" Eponine was exclaiming as she and Clark and Dorian walked into the White House.

"Yes, we know, Eppie." Clark patiently said. "It all looks amazing. Hey, aren't they the world dictators?" He pointed to Warden and Mistress; the two uniformed leaders found themselves talking to the South Korean Empress and her Chancellor. (Their Emissary couldn't come either because of maternity leave.)

"I believe so." DOrian replied curiously. "Why don't we have a closer look?"

"They're talking right now." Eponine said. "Let's wait a minute."

"Good thinking." Clark agreed.

The South Korean Empress and her Chancellor excused themselves to another part of the mansion, giving the French President and his Chancellor and his Emissary the chance they were hoping to seize.

"'Allo, leaders!" Eponine greeted with enthusiasm.

Warden and Mistress craned their necks around to see where the voice came from.

"W-who are you?" Mistress asked, clearly just caught off-guard.

"I am the French Emissary Eponine." the young woman replied with the same tone. "Do you know President DuBois and Chancellor Valjean?" She pointed to the two men behind her.

"No." Mistress replied. "But Chancellor Valjean looks sorta familiar." She found herself studying the sixty-something-year-old ebony-haired man.

"What do you mean?"

"He looks like one of my boys... Edward."

"That little boy beside you is Edward, right?"

"Yes."

"Now you mention it, I can definitely see some resemblance between the two of them."

Chancellor Valjean appeared genuinely confused and a bit miffed. He excused himself and Clark to another room.


End file.
